


Appearances & Manners

by Birdy1999



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Blend of film & theatre, Disney World & Disneyland, Fluffy, Humour, Love & Romance, M/M, Magic, Might add some saddness, Might be a smudge of violence, Very sappy and cute, much humour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdy1999/pseuds/Birdy1999
Summary: A blend of the classical beauty and the beast, adapted with the Disney classic and the theatre all spiced up into this delightful story involving the favourite band of dwarves. Thorin's journey into the realm of good as well as the past that cloaks those who follow him in from the guiding light of one Bilbo Baggins.*A more eloquent summary to follow*
Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Bofur/Nori (Tolkien), Dwalin/Ori (Tolkien), Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 34
Kudos: 26





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! I'll keep this short, please enjoy the story and let me know if there are any improvements to be added!

In a kingdom, far, far, away, there once lived a spoiled prince. He lived in a great palace, surrounded by fertile lands, roaming woods and beautiful meadows. Inside his home, there were riches to satisfy even a dragon. There was lavish furniture and only the most favoured were allowed to reside within.

There was gold upon gold, nothing was left without embellishment. There were deep blue satins, dark furs that draped across chairs, sweeping curtains that framed the golden windows that sparked with delicate frames glistened under the candles and fires roared through the dark winters. The garden bloomed with roses so red they were like drops of blood amongst the leaves.

Everywhere in his palace, there was laughter and joy, there was food and smiles while Thorin grew spoilt by those around him. Soon, he grew deaf to their words and tired with the surroundings, he demanded more. More riches. More gemstones. More balls. And above all, more gold. None of it could fill the void within Thorin.


	2. The Hunting & The Hunted

Thorin and his company loved nothing better than the hunt, they would roam the woods for hours and even days to succeed in finding the very best that the lands had to offer them. Might deer’s, shaggy wolves, russet-coloured foxes and even swift hares fell beneath the gleam of their weapons when they hunted. The animals upon the sound of their horses and voices would run and hide in fear. Soon the company of twelve had put the fear of the world into the heart of every animal.

On that day, they had chosen a white hare, who unknown to them, was under the protection of the Warlock of the Forest. There were mainly rumours and whispers of this wizard. Some said he had the face of a tree. Some say he even change the seasons and parents told their children that if they did not listen, then Radagast the Brown would come and twist them all into terrible creatures.

It had been a beautiful summers day when the company encountered this legend. They had transferred to run through the growth on foot rather than lose the trail of the hare. Fili and Kili were particularly excited about this hunt, it was their first and they were eager to impress their uncle. They ran on ahead of the group, while Dwalin and Thorin exchanged fond glances at their youth.

The rest ran behind them, forming a loose diamond as they crashed through the undergrowth after the spoil. Around them, the trees slowly became darker, hemming them into a tighter group as the sunlight slowly faded from view around them. Chilly breezes whispered through the deep, murky foliage that surrounded them despite the summer they had left. The company shivered, exchanging looks and drawing their summer capes closer to their bodies.

“My Liege, do you think it would be wise to leave this hunt and try for something else? We seem to have moved very far from the path.” Balin called from the back, eyeing the trees around him a suspicious gaze.

“Does anyone actually know where we are?” Ori called, puffing a little beside Dori.

Around the group, there was a general murmur of confusion. Slowly the thundering of their feet became a slow walk. Thorin cast his gaze around, burrow wrinkling with confusion. “Surely it was…”

“No, we came from over there…”

“The north, I’m sure we walked from the north.”

“Be quiet Oin, it was the south.”

Thorin sighed internally and looked up the sunlight speckled above. He cursed his bad luck and directions that he had been blessed with at birth.

“Yes, Dwalin?”

"Thorin, should we perhaps turn back?"

“No. Not until he finds something suitable for tonight." He snapped back, Dwalin's mouth closed but his eyes remained hard.

"And we are not lost." Thorin raised his voice to the group, each avoiding his gaze.

They would find something wonderful for tonight, it would be a glorious party. Nothing else would be acceptable.  
  


{}

The young princes began to fight and rough house amongst the trees, breathing free amongst the leaves rather than the eyes of the court.

Thorin was about to turn and give them an excellent scolding. To tell them about the dignity of their position. They had inherited far too much of Dis’s wild manners and ways. They were to be princes of this realm and would need to act accordingly. Their inner confidence would one day serve them well, he was sure of it, but it needed to be tempered with disciple.

“Boys, enough. Dwalin will you at least pretend to act as a beneficial-“

A scampering sound altered the group to the ruffling bushes all around. The leaves shook and shivered, leaving the group of hunters with pricked ears and quivering muscles as the anticipation of the hunt seized them.

Beyond them, a few meters away Thorin caught sight of a pair of dark auburn ears twitching amongst the leaves. The proud head and gleaming eyes were frozen as the gaze of the magnificent hare meet his. Oh, what a fine beast it was. It was as large as a hunting dog. It’s pelt a wonderful shade of copper that gleamed in the dappled light.

Silence prevailed for a moment; the forest did not utter so much as a whisper.

Then the hare gave a twitch and bolted.   
  
“After it!” Thorin bellowed, stampeding forward through the brush after the cotton-tailed beast.

His company was barely a step behind. They cursed saplings and flowers in their wake. Villages of mushrooms were crushed under their boots and trees shuddered as the group rumbled over the roots.

The hare danced amongst the trees, drawing them deeper and deeper into the woods. Soon there was no sign of the sun at all, the rays of light and pieces of blue were lost to the dark overhanging leaves. The woods pressed in all around them, almost pressing them away from moving deeper, brambles attempting to snare them and rocks appearing from nowhere to trip them.

The group however could not be stopped, their blood was flushed with the heat of the chase. They had promised to return with a great prize.

They called and howled through the undergrowth, their eyes flashing like predators and their hair flying behind them.

Despite its size, the creature could only run so long. The company knew this and fanned out, pressing and pushing the creature between them as they chased. Soon it had descended into a game, each growling and taking swipes as they hemmed the creature in closer. And closer. Until….

There was a ripple of thunder in the woods, the company and the hare tumbling into a wide clearing strewn with debris and forest plants. The trees whipped their heads and moaned in the blustering gales that had stirred them to cry out. The men quickly began to huddle together, the hare twitched and jumped to the edge of the wood, trembling with exhaustion and fear as the woods creaked and groaned in the sudden storm.

Not a patch of sunlight could be seen. The clearing with suspended in murky darkness and was quickly filling with a thick soup-like fog that twisted around the group unnaturally. It was dreadfully cold as well, tiny droplets of water settled on their weapons. The youngest of the group were shivering as the leaves that had strewn the floor rose into the air.


	3. What Lies Beneath the Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of our story and an explanation of the events that caused our heroes to fall from grace, could this be a hellish punishment or what could become their salvation?

“What is happening?!” Dori called, shouldering his fearsome axe and pushing Ori behind him. Kili and Fili had been similarly drawn into the middle, the older of the company growling and snarling at the rising wilds all around them.

“It is a trick!” Dwalin called back, taking a swipe at a tumbling roll of leaves.

“A trick? Sorcery!” Thorin shook his head and bellowed into the woods. “Show yourself! Coward who hides behind leaves and twigs!”

The trees clattered in response and another roll of thunder echoed around them. The sound changed and warped as a voice filled the air about them.

“I? A coward! You who would hunt the innocent?!” The voice rose and fell on the wind, spinning around them.   
  
Thorin pushed back his floundering locks and scowled into the woods. “It is only an animal, weak and inferior. Its natural place is to fall to the strong.”

The presence rumbled with anger and a figure slipped from between the trees on the other side. It was an enormous, hulking as a great oak and tall as a pine tree. Its face was covered but a long bushy beard draped down the front where a cloak that seemed to be made of the forest floor draped the monster.

“You, Thorin Durin, dare to speak of superiority?” The voice boomed back, the company pressed tighter and snarled back, weapons raised.

“By the heavens, it’s him!” Ori hissed in half terror and half awe.   
  
A withered hand covered with dirt and plants drew from the folds as a twisted staff of birch grew alongside to take it.   
  
“Radagast...” Dwalin murmured, scowling but looking gradually unease.   
  
“You, Thorin hold nothing in your heart but contempt for the world. You are one who is plagued and given a house to the demons of the soul. Greed. Lust. Violence. Hatred. You cannot appreciate the world nor those around you.” The figure took a shuddering breath and the staff began to rise.

“You can hold no love in your heart, a beast clothed in human skin. But that ends this day!”   
  
Thorin charged, throwing himself forward only to fall into a withering mass of armour and clothes. Dwalin and the company moved towards him, their eyes only just believing the sight of their king appearing to grow larger…   
  
“Till you can be loved by another, till another can see the goodness and love in your heart and you open up to that love… I hereby curse you to spend your days as a demon that reflects you’re inner self.”   
  
A low moan, animalistic and pained rent the air. Thorin’s clothes his clothes began to tear and hair sprouted along his back, the sound of his bones cracking even above the storm.

The company began to shudder as well, pain twisting through their bodies.

Kili and Fili clutched at each other, screaming as their heads grew and twisted. The others followed, their clothes no longer fitting as shoulders grew and hand were clutched to bodies as nails went beyond what was human.

There was a flash of lighting, the scene illuminated before the woods as the company were transformed into wolves combined with a human form. Thorin had become huge, his legs bent, and feet had expanded beyond the size of his boots. The leather split and torn. His breathing became the great laborings of an animal.

Oin and Dori were shivering, staring in horror at their hands… Or perhaps paws… It could have both. Meanwhile, Nori reached up and found to his horror that he had grown ears with furred tips and tuffs. Gloin fell over when he attempted to climb to his feet, noticing his elongated nose and snout that sniffed the chilled air.

“What have you done to us….” The former king moaned from the floor.

“I have changed you.” Radagst replied simply, his hand and staff disappearing into the moss-lined folds.

“You have turned us into monsters!” Thorin howled back, his face rising for the first time. The company all shook with horror at the once blue eyes, now liquid gold, glimmering like a hungry fox in the dark.

“I have done nothing but changed your inside to reflect your outside. I will give you till the last piece of this stone crumbles to find someone who can love you beyond the monster.”   
  
A beautiful shimmering diamond, with the light of a star in the heavens, appeared in Thorin’s grasp. HIS claws closed around the gem, hiding its beauty and terrible power from the world.

“How could anyone love me now?!” Thorin shouted back. “I am a BEAST!”

He staggered to his feet to try and moving to try and chase the wizard.

However, Radagast disappeared into a flurry of pine needles and a crisp winter chill.


	4. A World Out Of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I imaged that the company would have turned into wolves come, humans, closer to werewolves? So, they could use cutlery, write, wield weapons and some even wear pieces of clothing. I thought it would be an interesting thing to watch them adapt to, plus it allows for dancing and some interesting ideas of conversation. 
> 
> Aside from Thorin, who is like the idea of the wolves and human combined (close to how Professor Lupin looked with more hair and intellect) but he carries a lot of appearances from Disney’s beast (original animation). He carries the great mane, the paws and the hulking sort of shape.

The castle was different upon their return, gone was the finery and the decorations that had brought glory to its façade. Now it appeared cold and uninviting, wrapped in snow and ice. The walls had been covered with vines that held thorns, hiding the beautiful stone-work while grinning animal statues arranged themselves in the place of angels and warriors on the battlements to laugh at their former hunters. 

The group had loped back from the wilds, adapting to the scents and mechanics of an animal. They were a pitiful bunch, whimpering and whining behind their shuddering master who stared into his glorious home with horror.

“By the heavens…” Thorin shook the snow dusting his fur. He pushed the creaking door open.

Rather than be greeted with the screams and cries of horrified servants and courtiers, the company were greeted with darkness and silence. The castle was cold, seeming to have been abandoned by its inhabitants.

“What is the meaning of this?” Balin looked about him.

“There is no sign of anyone, I cannot smell anything beyond stone and ice.” Nori whispered, sniffing the air.   
  
Ori whimpered quietly, tucking himself into Dori’s side as his clawed feet skittered over the marble floor.

“Have they disappeared?” Nori suggested, rising onto his hind legs to peer about the corners as they moved forward.

{}

Suddenly, the candles were blown into life and the great door opened with a flurry of snowflakes. The curtains swayed and danced as the creatures turned to see the sight of a man clothed in grey astride the steps.

“What do you desire here, Gandalf? Have you come to laugh at the sight I have been reduced to?” Thorin called, gathering himself to his new height, snarling the words beyond his sharpened mouth.

“Oh Thorin, I did try to warn you.” Gandalf replied, stepping in the candlelight, his wrinkled face lined with deep concern.

“Save your breath, you’re sorrowful lamentations are worthless.” Thorin snapped back.

“Are you aware of the whereabouts of the other inhabitants?” Balin called, Gloin seconding his words.

“Where are they?! Have they been taken? Turned into wind and leaves!?” He called agitatedly.

Gandalf raised his hand and swept it towards the stairs. There, in the shadows, there was a click, a clatter and a swish as objects and furniture of every size moved into the light. There were chairs, dishes, candlesticks, feather dusters, wardrobes, swords, vases, teapots and even a collection of musical instruments.

“Oh, preserve us...” Oin wished, watching in shock as the creations drew forward.

“Aye, we have been afflicted as well.” Called a large grandfather clock, ticking steadily.   
  
“Master Hickery?” Balin retreated a little, horrified by his old friend so changed.  
  
“We’ve all been changed, those beyond the grounds, however, were not. They disappeared as soon as the first snowflake fell.”

A teapot called from the front, her lid rattling slightly as she spoke. “Every soul beyond us has gone! We are trapped!”  
  
Thorin spun round, his paws thudding on the stone as he stood and growled at Gandalf.

“Change us. We do not deserve such a fate!”   
  
Gandalf’s eyes looked on with disappointment as he shook his head. “I cannot undo another’s work; you shall have to complete the task laid before you.”   
  
He reached forward, patting the side of Thorin’s features as they simmered with rage. “Take heart Thorin Durin. If you are willing, then you shall be rewarded.”

With a final swish, Gandalf nodded to the room and swept through the doors.

“You have abandoned us to our fate! You are a coward!” Thorin shouted at his back.

His savage words and insults were howled into the night at Gandalf disappeared into the gloom of the night.

{}

Time passed. Through the years, the snow remained, and the castle fell into disrepair as the world moved on without them. Slowly the vines grew to be taller and taller, windows cracked, and the residence of the castle grew despondent. Thorin lost hope, falling in and out of depression, converting and howling at the diamond alternatively.

For whom could ever love a beast?

{}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry for the delay, for this, I shall post many more chapters much more frequently. Thank-you for all likes and comments, they warm my creative soul. <3


	5. An Unlikely Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let us move onwards through time to our next array of characters, turn the next page...

In a little town, there was a little house on the hill. It was a quiet town, home to successive generations of quiet families. Its surroundings inhabitants extended just beyond the sunny valley around it, the rest was deep woods that would leave inexperienced travellers the trees and wolves that were rumoured to inhabit it.

The days passed seamlessly, from one day to the next it was as the same as before. The sun rose and the inhabitants were quick to flock to the cobbled streets and throw out their colourful shutters to the morning light. There were bakers and craftsmen showing their wears, hat makers and all manner of farmers laying down their products to the discerning shoppers.

Its citizens valued the tranquillity, steeping themselves in good manners and tradition, suspicious of the unusual or ‘adventurous’ activities. They also made one late for tea, and that was quite unacceptable.

The house on top of the hill was equally full of life that morning. Bilbo’s almost too-quiet morning, not that he was lonely, had been sacrificed when Primula and Drogo had come under his roof years back.

After the events of that dreadful winter, Bilbo had persuaded, hounded and hinted at the young couple what a fantastic idea it would be to live in such a secure house. He also pointed out to a sighing Primula over buttered scones, that Bag End had plenty of room for children and it would be a perfect place for Primula to work with her own study, etc, etc. Drogo had caved to staying in the tucked away mansion, but on the condition, Bilbo could never be smug about his victory.

And he wasn’t… At least not after the first few months. Primula had threatened to never give him her recipe for her infamous coffee and walnut sponge.

Thus, now there was the constant chatter of voices in the morning with Bilbo’s books occasionally knocked over, cushions in disarray and laughter echoing through the halls.

He sipped his tea and smiled, watching his godson take a large bite of his muffin and leave blueberry jam around his face. Primula giggled as she catch Bilbo’s eyes while Drogo tutted at the pair of them and pressed a napkin around his son’s mouth. Yes, it was quite a tolerable.

{}

“How long will you be gone?”   
  
“Five days or so.”  
  
“Where are you going?”   
  
“To the markets beyond the mountains.”   
  
“Will there be many people?”   
  
“Many.”   
  
“Will there by many stalls?”   
  
“As many as the eye can behold.”   
  
“And will there-“   
  
Primula catch her son around the middle in an embrace, causing him to squeal with delight as she began to tickle him.

“So many questions! Does your curiosity never end?”

Frodo laughed and wriggled as his father and godfather looked on with amusement.

“He is a curious one indeed, I would not doubt that he will one day desire to see what lies beyond these lands.” Bilbo commented, the crisp air of the morning stirring his curls gently.

  
“Oh, he has inherited that from you. All you’re wonderful stories of far-away lands, monsters and great romances.” Primula teased, smirking at him. “He is just like you as a young lad, always running off and looking for adventure.”  
  
Bilbo scowled and then laughed with him. “Thank-fully my days of adventuring into the woods are far behind me.”

Primula shook her head at her husband who rolled his eyes.

{}

Soon, Primula’s wagon was laden with watches, trinkets and clocks that she sold in the great cities while the summer sun shone down upon him. She turned to her family, smiling at each of them and asked the question she always asked.

“So, what would you like for me to bring back for you all?”  
  
“Treasure! No, wait! Books!” Frodo cried with rapture.

“Any interesting plants, but in my heart, all I desire is your swift return.” Drogo added, smiling sweetly at his beloved. Their son looked on with embarrassment at his love-sick parents.

Primula turned. “And for you Bilbo?”   
  
Bilbo hummed and tapped his foot as he groped for an answer. What he really wanted Primula could not give him but he didn’t want to disappoint his cousin.

“Oh… Something unusual.”

Primula smiled and tutted amusedly before swinging herself into her seat as if she was not more than twenty summers past.

“Onwards, Minty!”

Minty flipped back her honey mane and trotted off, leaving behind a small crowd of waving figures in the sun of the early morning. The birds twittered, their song carrying the wagon into the woodlands.

{}

As was proper with the day’s events, Bilbo soon collected his basket and trekked his way into town to gather supplies for the day.

As ever, the square was beginning to bustle with movement. Shutters were thrown up and the street was alive with the sounds of children being herded into school and the calls of produce from the stalls. Townspeople bustled here and there, calling greetings and haggling over the price of eggs.

Bilbo nodded and smiled as he made his way through the town. Few returned his smiles and respectable nods, but many whispered behind his back when they thought he could not hear them.

“Strange one that Bilbo.”

“Very odd fellow, always locked up in his study.”   
  
“Likes to read books I hear…”

Bilbo tutted and shook his head, trying to walk a little faster as a baguette and a parcel of apples make its way into his basket.

“Never taken a partner, such an odd fellow. A mystery is Bilbo Baggins.”

The whispering and the looks followed him almost every time he left the house. Bilbo was not a strange fellow, just a bit different. However, in a town of some very opinionated individuals and some of a simple mindset, it was enough to lead him to be considered a local oddity.

{}

The only one who had never judged him, even encouraged him beyond his parents, was the wizened old bookseller at the end of the street. His shop never looked truly open, always slightly grey and crooked in comparison to the vibrancy of the street, but it drew Bilbo like a moth to a flame.

He breathed the smell of the leather tomes and books with pleasure as he entered the darkroom. The dust swirled lazily in greeting as sunlight poured through the windows above and from the shelves there came a merry chuckle.

“Good morning Gandalf.”   
  
“Do you mean to say it’s a good morning?” The old figure replied, limbering round a shelf, his grey housecoat trailing behind him while his blue eyes sparkled. “Or do you mean to wish me a good morning?”

Bilbo smirked; they often played this game.

“Or on the other hand do you simply think this is just a morning that will be good?”

“All at once, I suppose.”

The old friends shared an amused smile.

In truth, Bilbo very at home around Gandalf. With the old’s books, dusty air and the twinkling blue gaze.

“So, what shall you choose today?” Gandalf enquired, sweeping his arm to the shelves.

“Well…” Bilbo stepped forward, trailing his fingers over the well-worn spines.

“Do you have anything new?”   
  
He had read them all, winter nights and summer afternoons. Tales of adventure. Poems of great misery. Works of fiction. They welcomed him like old friends.

“Nothing yet, you know how people are here and books.” Gandalf shook his head and Bilbo smirked back. He reached up, his fingers brushing the spine

“Remember Bilbo, adventure is always just around the corner.”

Bilbo smiled back at him and shook his head fondly.

“As ever my old friend, you are full of mystery.”   
  
Gandalf chuckled and Bilbo returned to the shelves, finally pulling a worn sliver blue spine from its place. The leather rasped under his fingers and the pages fluttered a greeting as he opened it.

“That one again?” Gandalf enquired, climbing free from his chair by the fire and rambling over to catch sight of the glimmering gold lettering on the cover. “You’ve read it more than a hundred times.”   
  
“I can’t help it, it’s by far my favourite.” Bilbo replied, caressing it fondly.

“Then in that case,” Gandalf pressed the book into Bilbo’s chested as they moved towards the door. “It is yours to keep.”   
  
“Truly?” Bilbo felt his smile grew wider as the sunlight was introduced into the dark world of the shop.

“Of course. But don’t forget Bilbo, living is the true adventure.”   
  
Gandalf nodded his head with pleasure at the sight of Bilbo’s bafflement and shut the door to the bustle of the outside world.

{}

Bilbo shook his head and opened up the cover, flicking his way through the yellowed tome as he weaved his way through town. Folks would stare at him as he passed, nose buried in the pages, and whisper about him.

“Mad Baggins…”   
  
“Off reading again…”

Bilbo walked a little faster, trying to let the whispers slide off his back without care.

“….should have settled down long ago…”

“…always wanting something else…”   
  
His feet moved faster, carrying him across the cobbles quickly.

“…though it can hardly be expected considering-“The sounds of the voices were lost to the sounds of the fountain in the square. The sentence was washed away in the streams of water. Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief, he tried not to care but some days it was harder than others. After all, he wasn’t that unusual, he just wasn’t going to settle into what others would expect of him. He was perfectly happy, yes, perfectly so.

He bent his head under the sun, the words creating a world just for him. The book he chose spoke of dragons and snowy mountains, of great treasure and an even greater prize. He chuckled with mirth at the jokes and secretly envied the comradery of the characters as he read. He had almost reached his favourite scene, the one where his two favourite characters finally met…   
  


“Ah, there you are…”   
  
A darker hulking shape fell across him, blotting out the sun’s rays. It shattered the delicate world of fantasy that had encased Bilbo’s thoughts for the past hours. The sun was beginning to its descent into the afternoon.   
  
The blood-coloured uniform and pale, watery eyes were emblazed with the light to capture the attention of those around. Even the hideous scaring was emphasised, drawing the whispers of those around whom had the dare to look.

  
“Bilbo, how nice to see you again.” The voice drawled on, a too sharp smile gleaming with white teeth pulled wide as Bilbo finally brought his head up.

Oh, why….   
  
“Azog.” He replied shortly, polite and cold.

The man, or whatever he was, smiled wider at the coldness and leaned over Bilbo. His great height and barrel-like chest gave further width to his huge shape. Azog positively leered at Bilbo, his quivering manservant watching over from a distance while those in the village kept their eyes adverted just slightly.

  
Bilbo sighed mightily and snapped his book shut. His good mood all but evaporated as he climbed to his feet.   
  
“Can I assist you in some manner?”   
  
Azog looked heart-broken while still grinning. “I have just come to see the most-lovely being in all of the town. After all, you have always been so… Interesting to me.”   
  
Interesting for all the wrong reasons, Bilbo thought as he edged his way out from Azog and began to walk back to the house. Azog, not wanting to give up his prize kept pace and continued beside him.

“I cannot begin to comprehend why.” He returned, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

Azog, not achieving the reaction he desired, reached forward and plucked the book from under Bilbo’s arm instead.

“And what have you been reading?” He asked in a sickly-sweet manner, flipping through the pages with barely concealed disgust.

“It’s private, return it.” Bilbo snapped back, making a swipe for it but Azog held it aloft with his superior height.

“By the heavens, why even read at all? This is all just words, not even any pictures…” Azog then smirked and captured Bilbo’s arm in his grip. Bilbo shuddered as goosebumps broke out under his sleeve at where Azog held him. He needed to stay calm.

“Some of us use our imagination.” He hissed back, jerking his arm free from the steely grip. “Now, return. My. Book.” 

Azog sighed and dropped the book onto the dusty coddles carelessly. “It is such a shame that you have been corrupted by these books. Soon you’ll be having ideas and who knows what…” Azog smirked at him as Bilbo bent and retrieved the tome, rubbing off the dust and smears of mud.

“You could do so much better things, like keeping me entertained…” He breathed, eyes gleaming with awful pleasure. Bilbo scowled and gulped down a mouthful of horror at the thought, the monstrous man slunk off chuckling quietly.

Even though it was almost summer and despite the anger rolling through his gut. Bilbo shivered a little.


	6. Into the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve brought Bilbo’s personality to be a little more adventurous or longing based for now but in the future, I might roll back to the more home-settled hobbit to compare for reasons. 
> 
> Thoughts on Azog as his character? I am unsure of him presently, but I am trying to work him into the story in the best way possible – I was considering taking him for the projection of greed rather than a specific love interest. 
> 
> And yes. I gave him hair because having him bald I couldn’t help but laugh. I wanted to work in his scars through his face and perhaps going into his hairline so he would still have those, he is definitely a blend of Gaston & Azog.

The sun had begun its final sets towards rest. The golden light rolled and dusted the landscape with gold as Bilbo picked his way through the fields, collecting bag in one hand and his mind in another place entirely.

“Who does he think he is?” He asked the plants and floral hotly, bending to picking a few un-answering valerians. The leaves shook as they were passed into the depths of his basket and Bilbo strode onwards through the grasses.

“I’ll show him…” Dandelions waved in the evening, pearly white and bursting with seeds. “No Sir, I am a toy… A plaything…”   
  
He huffed and scowled into the hills, seeds beginning to swirl into the air as the wind picked up.   
  
“Why can’t he just leave me alone?”

The hills did not have the answer, they sat silent as Bilbo took a seat in the whispering landscape. Azog just couldn’t bear to not have a response, he was a man obsessed with control and something or someone beyond that was fascinating. A thing that didn’t automatically bend to his fear and will, that was where his true control lay.

To not do so, to Azog made him… Desirable…   
  
Bilbo huffed and flopped back, hiding in the growth. He could just run, turn and never look back. Travel far and wide, see the seas of the world, the great forests of the north… Perhaps even the great plains in the west with their great channels…

But then, is that what he truly wanted?

His mind turned and turned, but ultimately Bilbo knew that his life didn’t satisfy him. Not truly. He was an isolated very well-read-bachelor-writer. Surely there must be more to the world. Surely…  
  
“Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone who understands?” He whispered the secret thought to the wind and the sky, his words lost amongst the scattering seeds.

{}

A number of sunlight days and deep starry nights had rolled by since the nimble-fingered maker had set off on his journey. The cities and the towns had bustled with the rapidity of life as she rolled through them.

There had been fairs full of colours and the laughter of the most exotic traders of society. There had been animals, machines and all manner of knowledge available to the waterfall of gold and silver ready in the purses of the wealth.

Primula had made sure to pick up curiosities of all manner and took at many sketches of the sights of possible to satisfy her son, she smiled fondly at the thought of seeing her home once more. The lure of the city always turned against her by the end of the season, summoning the thought of dappled sunlight trees and the touch of those worn armchairs in the living room.

The green door shone like a beacon in her mind, oh she did hope that Bilbo had remembered to get it repainted…

She worried against the reins in her hand for a moment as she pondered her reclusive yet extroverted cousin. Despite all the wonders of the world laid out on stalls, she had not seen anything that suited him. There had been books aplenty, maps of all manners and enough unusual little trinkets to satisfy even Bilbo’s dragon hoard…

As her mind wandered, she came to a fork in the road. One path showed a dimly lit road, trees clustering in around the path like lingering figures. The other seemed to be paved with moonlight, pebbles gleaming under the stars and the sweet face of lady night.

It was a split to be sure, Primula momentarily cursed at having not inherited her husband’s sense of direction. For a Baggins, the man could be left blindfolded miles from home and still find his way back.

By comparison, she was relatively less well directed. However, Primula was of sound heart. She clicked her tongue and steered Minty down to the dimmer path, she was sure that she had come this way last time. Yes. Quite certain.

{}

Slowly, the trundled deeper and deeper into the darkness. Soon the stars and the moons were hidden by clouds that were marbled with grey. Primula was forced to draw her scarf closer, tucking the warm fibres against her cheeks to banish away a sudden chill.

It whipped and whistled through the trees, leaving her shuddering along with Minty. The little pony, a stout creature to be sure, gave a loud snort of displeasure at their current surroundings.“I know, I know.” Primula cooed, reaching down to pat at the creature of her lower back. “I am sure we shall be home soon. It’s just a…”   
  
Something cold tickled against the back of her neck. Was it a spider?

Then another one, a tiny pinprick of cold brushing against her forehead. Finally, a glimmering snowflake danced down onto the back of her hand. Primula raised her hand in wonder, watching with fascination as the small crystals slowly melted away against her skin.

“It’s just snow… In June…” Nothing to be worried about.

Minty gave her mistress another snort but continued to trample over the growing snowdrifts. The snow was beginning to fall steadily now, leaving a dusting across all the trees. Each branch was caked in a frozen sugar, the wood around them was as quiet as the grave.

It was just like the winter that had fallen over the shire, the world suddenly so cold and silent, swallowing all the citizens into its frosty grasp.

“Easy my darling, easy-“

{}

A branch cracked loudly in the undergrowth.

Primula twitched.

Another twig crunched and there was the sound of soft pattering on snow.

Something was out there. Primula took hold of her seat with one hand and the reins with her another as the wind turned to a gale. Flakes burned and dashed her cheeks, leaving the world a sudden blaze of white.

A low growl rolled through the silence.

Primula didn’t wait, she snapped the reins. “

Go! Go, go!” She screamed, leading Minty into a mad bolt of creaking wood and steaming snorts. The shapes of grey and black-streaked alongside them, dancing through the undergrowth around them. Eyes glowed blue and shimmering in the darkness like flashing moons. The howls filled her eyes as they rode on through the trees. Primula could only see a few meters in front of her, snow blurring her gaze. She was forced to guide by pure instinct, screaming at Minty to run faster while tugging to avoid pine or a nest of brambles by mere inches.

The woods curved around them, as did the pack. The creatures drew closer and closer, coming to snap and snarl at the thundering wheels of the chart. Primula drew her whip and slashed at one that took the opportunity to nip at her ankles.

The creature howled and retreated, disappearing amongst the snow once more. Suddenly, the forest opened into the sight of a great frozen lake. They were hurtling towards the bank; the pack had outflanked them and were waiting at the edge of the frozen sheet.   
  
Primula gave a cry and tried to brake, the leather of the reins tearing at the flesh of her palms. Minty gave a scream of her own, tossing and skidding on the ground as the wagon began to tip behind her. The hazardous driving had led to the bolts coming loose, freeing her from her place.

The pony gave a terrific neigh and drove free, dragging herself and her harness free, bolting into the distance as Primula tumbled into the snow. The wolves instantly gave chase. 

Primula crawled under the upturned wagon and peeped out from beneath her scattered treasures to watch the sleek shapes vanish amongst the foliage. The cold bit into her skin, seeping the strength from her body as she lay panting in the spoiled slopes.

Silence fell once more.

{}

No one could say that Primula was a person who gave up easily. No matter the task or obstacle she would strive to continue. Thus, when her breathing had calmed, and her body no longer shook like a leaf in a hurricane she crawled out and assessed her situation.

No horse. No wagon. It was presently turned on its side in a pile of disorder with a dangerously bent looking wheel. No idea of her location or how close to where she was. No daylight. Primula kicked the wagon once or twice before reining her anger back.

She turned her gaze to the frozen lake, looking across at the frozen sheet and around herself at the trees. The whole land seemed to be unknown, how curious. 

Primula was sure that she had been to every inch of the Shire, how could she have overlooked this lake and the surrounding mountains? It would be glorious in summer…

Turning her gaze to the cliffs, she let out a gasp of surprise. Amongst the snowy ledges and fog draped road there stood a great castle. It was both beautiful and terrifying, from a distance it was enormous, turrets and great expansions of roof climbed higher and higher amongst great shattered windows.

Here and there, dark and empty balconies stood, the lower half draped in snow as well. Over the lake stood a bridge, connecting the upper regions of the castle to the cliffs on the other side of the mountain. Primula could barely believe the sight of the creation, mined as if from the mountains very heart itself.

Well… That was very interesting…

Primula squared her shoulders and shook remnants of frost from her cloak as best she could. She was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. She hoped that there was someone home, her feet softly tapped as she walked across the frozen lake to the opposite side and began to ascend the cliff path to reach the frozen gates.


	7. At the end of the road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snowy roads and frozen worlds await our character.

The road twisted and worked its way through the wilds. Primula’s breath was steaming out in front of her when she reached the thorny gates at the top. Vines and thorns lay tangled in the metal and across the brickwork. As she approached the façade, granite statues of stags eyed her with malice. The heads were contoured, thrown back in rage and some of the carved eyes seemed to follow her. Primula shivered slightly but passed off the feeling with a snort of displeasure. If she was going to get home, she could hardly be frightened of a few statues.

The great mountain and frozen ocean were silent below, only her slowly disappearing tracks could have indicated that a living creature had passed through.

Primula grasped the gates and started to push, pricking her fingers and her hair on the vines while the screws squeaked in the chilled air. The road leading to the door seemed even longer than the road, covered with evergreen hedges buried in blankets of snow and statues of peculiar creatures.

Primula hurried on, her feet crunching amongst the flakes as the front door finally came into view. It was a beast of a door, as tall as Bag End, a rusting shade of blue with tarnished knockers frozen with ice.

Surprisingly, when her fingers came to brush the residual snow blanket from the handle the door slipped open without so much as a creak or squeak. Primula looked about her but couldn’t see anything but the snow and the inky black of the inside.

Little did she know, how many pairs of eyes were watching her walk inside.

{}

The inside was a mass of shapes and shadows. They weaved and blended together, marble coldly tapping under her feet as the icy world was shut off from her. Her vision was thrown into darkness, only with the light of the moon could she make out the tragic beauty of the room.

Such a despairing sight, Primula was sure that if she could have seen the palace in its glory, she would have wept for the state of it now. Cracks and dust lay everywhere, disarray and clutter lay about in all matter of objects. Primula snorted, Bilbo would have hated the amount of dust, disgraceful.

Slowly, she stepped further and further into the room. Nothing of use had yet befallen her gaze so she moved on, closing round another set of great doors she came upon the sight of what she gasped in awe.

The whole room was dark wood and rich fading tapestries. Paintings now tore and some even upside down hung over the walls. Before her, illuminated by the moon there were the outlines of what could have been the greatest calendrer. Primula had even laid eyes on. What a shame, that it laid on the floor dusted with cobwebs and crooked jewels carelessly swept across the rug.

Primula tutted, taking a packet of matches and striking one into life. It was very odd, but she could have sworn she had heard someone whispering…

Out of nowhere, the great fire-place at the end of the room burst into a furnace of heat and light. A rapid tapping noise faded into the distance under Primula’s gasp of shock. Her fingers tingled, even at a distance, at the feel of something other than below-freezing temperatures.  
  
She was not a woman to look a gift horse in the mouth, she marched forward and blew out the match as she settled in front of the blaze. The logs chuckled and cracked in a fiery tongue at her arrival, washing over her with a blissful warmth.

{}

Behind her, hidden well amongst the clutter, two pairs of moonlight eyes watched. They watched with eagerness and fascination at this creature who had wandered into their world. Similarly, objects that Primula had overlooked, cracked their eyes open in wonder at the sight before them.

{}

Primula was so tired and the fire so welcoming, that she was soon fighting against the sleep that clouded her version.

She could have only allowed her eyes to close for a few moments, perhaps ten? When a clatter and a scampering noise drew her from the mouldering rug and call of dreams with a start.

On the previously empty table, the dusty had become roughed up lines as a plate and a hastily arranged platter of food have been arranged. There was fruit in glistening colours of red and green, vegetables steaming away and a bowl of what appeared to be a white soup caressing her senses with the scent of rosemary.

Primula’s mouth watered.

Gradually, she approached the table and took her seat in the chair. It creaked under her body as she took her weight, but everything in terms of the plating seemed to be clean. It seemed unreal, Primula eyed the sight of the apples and wafting steam with a sense of unsureness.

Should she eat it? Was it a trap? Or a kind gesture left by whatever resided within the walls?  
  
They had even given her a napkin. She smiled slightly and fingered the aged cloth, embroidered and dazzling in the firelight as the gold swirls moved over her fingers. She could pick out tiny figures and beautiful plants worked into the cloth by the finest of hands.

Surely one taste couldn’t hurt?  
  
The first spoonful had her moaning into the silence. Everything was delicious. She finished the whole plate and the soup within moments, feeling as though she had not eaten in days. The fruits quickly vanished as well, the pears tart to her mouth and the blackberries burst with a richness that Primula could have sworn was magical to her tongue.

{}

As soon as she had finished, Primula took a moment to consider her position. She was rested and feed. She was not injured. She was not too far from home most likely. It had only been one wrong turn…

She stood and wandered to the windows, the ageing grounds of the castle lay like a weave of hedges and moonlight beyond the dark glass. The moon was not too high, soon it would be morning.

She would just have to try. Primula could feel that deep in her bones, something was wrong with this beautiful palace draped in mystery. Forgotten and tucked away, despite the shelter is had given her and the unexpected generosity. There just wasn’t something quite right.

She shivered and gathered herself, checking she had all she came in with. Taking just one more moment by the warmth of the fire, she began to work her way back to the road.

{}

It was a shame; she was not destined to ever find it that night.

{}

Primula huffed slightly as she came to the same room again for the third time. She could have sworn that she had gone a different way. Oh, where was her husband when she needed his sense of direction? Sighing, she took a leap of faith and pushed out the first door she could find.

{}

At least, she thought as she came onto the snow-covered platform, she was outside rather than in. This time, her senses had led her to the garden. The walls were small but, in the distance, Primula could make out the lake below. If she just walked continually forward, she would eventually make her way down.

Gradually, she walked through, snowflakes occasionally dusted her cheeks with icy kisses. The garden was an impressive sight indeed, built with great clustered of beds that lay barren and gorgeous sittings where couples could have walked amongst the statues. There were silent fountains of every shape and style, benches and even an orchard with expanses of buried green for seating.

What Bilbo wouldn’t have given for such a garden? Primula shook her head, imaging her cousin happily pottering about the palace grounds for the rest of his life if he could. He would have made the ground sing, just as he did back at Bag End.

Not that Primula wasn’t an accomplished gardener, but Bilbo a way with the earth. His blooms drew the sight of the whole village, summoning bathes of bees and all manner of creature to enjoy the nectar of his…

Roses?  
  
Primula tripped slightly, her breath catching on the sight of the beautiful roses clustered and blooming inside the barren wasteland. They were breathtaking. They weaved and twisted, blue deep as the ocean and open to the light of the moon’s radiance. She had never seen the blue rose before, she reached out, stroking the petals with her fingertips. It was like touching velvet; she inhaled the soft scent gently.

The bushes formed a beautiful figure of twisting around her as if they were weaved together as the heart of the garden. Well, this should certainly catch Bilbo’s interest. Reaching forward, Primula gave one of the roses a sharp tug. It gave way easily, one of the thorns pricking her finger and drawing forth a drop of ruby red blood.

As she turned back, a great howl echoed through the garden. Primula felt her blood turn to icy and her legs began to move, spraying the snow behind her as she raced through the garden. There was panting and a snarl behind her, trees and bushes rushed as howls answered. A dropping sensation, a stumble on a slippery step and Primula felt a hot breath on her neck.

Only the moon and the snow heard her scream.

{}

She awoke shivering in the darkness, cold stone sucking the warmth from her skin. Her face ached and her arms were covered in scratches, she coughed suddenly as the chill whipped around her body. The wind whispering and blew around her. She couldn’t focus on the room or the height outside the barred window, all she could think of was the creatures. The howls and the eyes of gold flashing with anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAKE IT BLUE. 
> 
> Thank you all to comments and kudos! All are appreciated and loved!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return of Primula sends Bilbo out into the world for answers for the missing family member.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very sorry for the delay, COVID has me in a strange place. I will update as frequently as possible. I see your comments and kudos, I adore and appreciate them. <3

The sun rose and the sun fell, over the hills of the Shire. Frodo kept an eager eye at the door and would jerk his head up when a wagon rolled by. Bilbo and Drogo would chuckle at the lad’s behaviour, but as the days grew longer… Even Drogo’s attention wandered at the sounds of wagon wheels and the trotting of a hoof on the roads of the town.

Two days since Primula’s expected return rolled slowly by.

Bilbo had even taken to preparing a fourth plate at dinner, hoping that Primula would simply roll in one evening as the summer sunset behind the long grass and greenery of the hills. Surely, she was just delayed… Perhaps some curiosity or event had been taking place which she had to stay and see… Or maybe she had become held up in traffic, it was summer so there was plenty of movement on the roads…

At this point, Drogo began to keep an eye on the letterbox. Encase a letter should arrive from her explaining her absence or someone else writing to them to explain her delay. Primula had never been delayed for so long. Of course, there was the occasion of her procrastinating on her return or being simply lost in the surrounding woodlands. May the gods help that poor woman if she had managed to become lost for three whole days. When Bilbo got his hands on her he would draw her a map including every blade of grass in the land to keep her from straying again.

{}

The fourth day, to be precise is when the unthinkable happened. Bilbo had been journeying back from town, his basket full of wares and fresh fruit for the weekend ahead. Behind him, there was a bellowing neigh that pulled him from his wandering thoughts like the crack of a whip. There, cantering up the path like she was being chased by a demon, was Minty.

Alone.

Bilbo dropped the basket and held up his hands, calling and shushing the frightened creature as she came to a skidding halt in front of Bilbo. She gave a great snort and tossed her head, whining her distress as Bilbo gave her nose a good rub.

Bilbo checked the reins and behind Minty just encase Primula had fallen off somewhere on the path. No. Beyond the surprise of Minty’s entrance, there was not a soul to be seen. The residence were all respectively in their homes, even Frodo and Drogo who were in the pantry picking out ingredients for supper.

Bilbo stroked Minty’s nose thoughtfully, retrieving a carrot from the ground. Minty chopped through it gratefully and then began to scoop the rest from the lane where Bilbo’s basket had overturned.

No wagon. No harness. Not even a note of any sort. Primula must be in trouble. Bilbo squared his shoulders and pulled Minty’s head up to meet his.

“Do you know where Primula is?”  
  
Minty snorted and blinked at him. Well, that was a yes. He smiled and scooped up the basket. Turning about, he fed the pony another carrot and then rushed into the house. The door shuddered as he knocked it open. He threw the basket down and donned his cloak.

“Bilbo, whatever has happened?” Drogo called, coming from the depths of the pantry with Frodo on his hip. “Has Primula come home?” The hope on his face was almost painful, Frodo looked about the room as if his mother was hiding behind a wall.

“Drogo, I…” Bilbo thought for a moment as he fastened a small dagger to his belt. “I…” He looked to Frodo and then back to his cousin.

“She isn’t here is she?”

Bilbo shook his head and ran back to his study, fumbling with the lock of the safe, he grabbed the deeds of Bag End and pushed them into Drogo’s hands. Drogo’s eyes widened and he pulled his son a little closer.

“No. I am going to go and look for her. Keep the house safe and if I don’t return…” He gulped and brushed a lock of hair from his godson’s head. “It’s yours, give it to Frodo and make sure that it doesn’t fall into Lobella’s hands.”  
  
Drogo nodded solemnly and tried to give something of a smile. Frodo on the other hand, sensing the tension in the room, began to look as though he might cry.

“Why are you leaving Uncle?” His lip began to tremble, Bilbo immediately smiled reassuringly.

“I have to go on an adventure to go and find your mother, my boy.” Frodo’s eyes shined over. “Will, you promise to look after the house and protect your father for me?”  
  
“…Yes Uncle Bilbo.”  
  
“And will you promise to light a candle in the window, so we know our way back?”  
  
Frodo nodded eagerly at his, reassured by having something to do. “Yes.”

“Good boy,” Bilbo replied, embracing both of them tightly for a moment. Then he was striding to the edge of the door and moving to walk outside.

“You will come back soon, won’t you, Uncle Bilbo?” Frodo called in a worried tone.  
  
“I promise,” Bilbo called back, swinging himself on Minty’s back.

Bareback had never been a problem for Bilbo, he had been mucking about with ponies and even a horse, for much of his youth. He gave Minty a sharp nudge and the pony gave a neigh and cantered out of the town. Her shoes sparked cobbles on the stones of the streets to the dying light of the sun.

{}

Bilbo could never have never asked for a better steed, Minty was blessed by the gods themselves. Her stride was sure and unbreaking as they moved through the woods to the evening light. The sun fell slowly, casting darkness and weaving figures as they rode. Soon, the moon began to turn its sliver face to watch their progress, Bilbo tugged his cloak closer as the air began to turn sharp and bitter.

Snow. He could taste the solemness of it. The sharp and unyielding cold that proceeded the first flake touching his skin. Gradually, the ground was laid with the brushing of furry frost and then flakes fell. Finally, the blankets began, Minty’s breath steaming out in great clouds of white as they plundered through it.

Bilbo hated the snow. The snow only held darkness. Terror. Things that came for the innocent in the dead of the night. Bilbo really hated the snow.

{}

Finally, after what felt like hours of movement and mountains snow drifts the woodland burst out onto the frozen world. Bilbo gasped at the sight; the sound absorbed by the landscape. It was so beautiful. Hauntingly so, Bilbo was sure he would never forget the sight of the palace draped in its cloak of winter.

But why? Bilbo couldn’t help but the question as Minty climbed the road closer and closer to the great front with Bilbo’s urging, why would Primula be here? The snow lay cold and untouched as they drifted through it. Bilbo finally having slowed them to a walk as the dark walls and terrible façade rose before him. Statues and fountains. Hedges and barren beds of flowers.


End file.
